Firefly Night

CHAPTER 6.5

Before I even had time to react, the bull fighters were there, three of them total, working to distract Outlaw, surrounding the bull and guiding me to the gate and out of the arena.

I darted to the fence and climbed up out of harm's way as my adrenaline waned just enough for me to finally, for the first time that night, register the crowd's boisterous cheering and feet stomping in the stands. I raised my hands up in victory, the audience celebrating right along with me.

I let out a couple loud yelps as the announcer sang my praises from atop my horse on the other end of the arena. Scanning the arena I found her, standing at the edge of the gates. Lemon's face was illuminated with excitement as she held my hat, which had been knocked from my head in the fall, up high, a proud smile stretching across her lips. Warmth filled my stomach, twisting it in different ways then before.

It was a feeling I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried. Maybe I'm in deeper then I realize.

"That was Colt Langmore from Bozeman, Montana ladies and gentleman. How did you all like that fantastic ride?!"

More, and even louder cheering from the crowd ensued. I cast my eyes on the large video screen high above them across the arena as a giant "87" appeared.

"Eighty seven points, ladies and gentleman! Give Colt a big round of applause!" The crowd erupted again as I jumped down and waved to them, making my way over to the edge of the gate. Lemon stepped forward, extending my hat toward me. My fingers closed around the brim, holding it for a moment longer than necessary. My gaze meet hers. Warm like honey.

"Keep it," I said, my voice low and smooth.

With a gentle motion, I placed the hat on her head, a smirk playing on my lips. It suited her, I had to admit, adding a touch of rugged charm to her barrel racing uniform.

Her lips parted in surprise, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "But it's yours," she protested, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

I chuckled, giving her a wink. "Consider it a souvenir from the wildest ride of the night," I replied, flashing her a grin before turning away to join the other riders. There was something about seeing her wearing that hat that just felt right. Besides, I had a feeling I could always get it back from her someday.

Caleb was up next to ride.

He was a few years older than me, but I had grown up hard and had to grow up fast, so I was always the more mature of the two. Caleb was this happy go lucky, always up for a party type of guy. He didn't take life too seriously, but I was serious enough for the both of us. I looked at bull riding as a job, and if I didn't get a good ride, I wasn't doing my job.

Caleb was a damn good bull rider, had to be or he wouldn't be here, but he liked the show business part of it more so than the bull riding. He was the polar opposite of me, which is probably why we were such good friends. I had experienced more success as a bull rider, winning Rookie of the Year at the PBR World Finals three years ago and a handful of other achievements along the way. But Caleb had a much larger fan base. He loved doing publicity, sponsorship commercials, radio spots, all that shit.

I walked over to the fence and climbed up to watch Caleb's ride.

"Come on, Caleb, pull it out," I mumbled to myself. But not even three seconds into his ride, he was thrown off, crashing hard on his hands and knees. "Goddammit," I cursed, watching him struggle to get back on his feet.

Rhett Weston and a couple of the PBR bull riders were on the fence beside me and clearly hadn't seen him climb up.

"I knew his ass wasn't going to cover. What a goddamn waste of a pair of Wranglers," Rhett said dismissively. The other riders nodded in agreement.

"You brave enough to repeat that, Weston?" All three men turned to see me staring daggers at Rhett

And to think we had been friends. How could someone I once trusted turn out to be like this? It was a bitter realization, leaving a sour aftertaste that lingered long after the words had been spoken.

"Just shooting the shit, Colt. Ain't meaning no harm, man," Rhett responded as he put his hands up in surrender.

Rhett Weston was a mouthy, cocky son of a bitch. If Rhett was half as good as he thought he was, he might actually be a match for me in the arena.

But he wasn't. Not by a long shot.

And certainly not enough to be insulting Caleb.

"Ah well in that case, the only shit you're going to be shooting is the bullshit at the end of my boot if you open your mouth again," I gaze at him steadily.

Rhett smirked, a cocky glint in his eyes as he tilted his head slightly. "Well, well, Colt Langmore thinks he's got some bite," he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Good ride, tonight," I heard the other bull riders mutter as they jumped down and walked off quickly.

"I prefer to let my riding do the talking," I replied coolly, my voice laced with a hint of amusement. It was a subtle jab, a reminder that actions spoke louder than words in the arena.

Rhett just shook his head and scoffed, his eyes not reaching mine, which were still staring him down, silently challenging. I watched with satisfaction as Rhett finally jumped down from the fence and made his way over to the other riders.

I sighed heavily and turned to see Caleb make his way out of the arena, thankfully uninjured, but not before waving his hat in the air with a big grin on his face. The guy was unbelievable.

Only Caleb could fall flat on his ass right out of the gate and still stand up and face the crowd, with a cheeky smile no less. But I guessed that was all part of Caleb's charm, and why people loved him so much.

He was so damn happy all the time.

Some guys just had that knack for bouncing back, no matter what life threw at them. It was a quality I both admired and envied. I sure as hell wouldn't be smiling if I was thrown. With a final glance at the arena, I turned away, my mind already focused on what came next.